"One cheese slice left. Anyone want it?" My dad asks, his brown eyes peering out over the frames of his glasses.

"No, thanks, I'm stuffed," I say.

I'm pretty sure I just ate my weight in pizza. I may be petite, but this girl can eat. And pizza? Michelangelo isn't the only one crazy about it.

"I'll have it if no one else wants it," Libby says, taking one for the team.

My dad shakes his head no before he wipes he mouth and hands with a napkin and then gets up to walk over to the living room.

"Please," my mom begs, "take it. Don't tempt me!"

She looks over at me dreamily as Libby brings the last piece of cheese pizza to her face.

"Last day of being a junior," my mom muses, blinking her eyes, "I just still can't believe you are both going to be seniors."

Her finger tugs at the top of her forest green turtleneck. No matter what the season, my mom is wearing a turtleneck. She is obsessed.

My dad comes back into the kitchen to start the Mr. Coffee and then walks over to my side. He places his hand on top of mine and gives it a loving squeeze.

Oh, Dad, C' mon. Not now. Don't get all gooey on me now. Not with mom, too. It's too much goo for me.

"Our baby girl is growing up," he bows his head and slumps his shoulders. Such drama, Dad.

Great. His eyes are misting up. I see Mom's eyes misting up, too. Oh no...wait for it...I see a tear...and there it goes...down her cheek...oh, Mom. Dad.

Libby eats her pizza, feigning knowledge of the adult tears in her presence.

I have plenty of emotions about my senior year brewing inside of me as it is--I don't need my parents feeling things about it, too. At least not so openly.

Libby, being the perfect friend that she is, changes the subject.

"I'm sure Elle hasn't told you yet," she leers at me, "but my family and I are going to Canada this summer. For a month!"

Ugh. Don't remind me. What will my summerlife be like without her?

"That's wonderful!" Mom starts to clear off the table.

Dad nods in agreement, smiles, and then returns to Mr. Coffee, willing his decaf to drip.

My mom will be around all summer--she's a kindergarten teacher--and my dad is usually home most evenings and some of the weekend--he works with two other veterinarians at an animal hospital in a neighboring town.

I love my parents. Sometimes they're actually the coolest and most interesting people I've ever known. Well, except when they're annoying me, or are overly curious about my life and moods or dip into my stash of Hershey's Kisses that I hide in my desk drawer for emergencies.

They think they're all sneaky. But I'm on to them.

I get up from the table and take the plates to the sink. I turn the faucet on, set the stopper in the sink, and squeeze some bright blue dish soap into the water.

"When are y'all leaving for the Great White North?" My mom asks as she wets a towel under the faucet and then wrings it out. She starts to wipe the kitchen table off.

"We'll be leaving on June 1st." Libby says, sitting at the table still, sipping on her glass of water.

June 1st?!

That is less than two weeks away.

I felt like I needed something...

I scrubbed at the stuck-on cheese on the plate in my hand and shook my head as my temper came on in tiny methodical waves in motion with the scrubbing.

"How delightful! I had forgotten your mother has family up there. You know..."

I wasn't listening anymore. Watching the suds rise in the sink and the water splashing around the plates, I thought of being a little kid in a bubble bath. If only life were that easy and fun and bubbly now. Of course, it's not. It sucks.

I'm not angry anymore. Libby can't help that fact that she has family in Canada, can she?

No. I do let my mind contemplate the new levels of absolute boredom I experience this summer, though.

Me at the coffee shop. Alone.
Me at the movie theater. Alone.
Me at the mall. Alone.
Me at the park. Alone.
Me at the library. Alone.

Sad.
Lame.
No amount of pizza or Skittles could kill that sort of pain.

Nothing compares to hanging out with Libby. It makes me sound pathetic, I know, but Libby gets me.

I finish up the dishes and leave them in the dish rack to dry. I see my dad has already settled into his book, Intensity by Dean Koontz. He's a Koontz freak. He has his mug of decaf within reach and he looks so content and happy as he turns the page with a furrowed and engrossed brow. I want that. I want to be content.

As my mom is chattering away about something, using her hands and eyebrows for emphasis, all the while Libby is nodding and smiling and listening. She knows when to listen and when to respond. Gold star for you, Libby.

My mom loves Libby almost as much as I do. Funny how life works out. I ended up with no siblings at all and somehow we still managed to find each other--soul sisters.

I wait for a pause in their conversation and ask, "Libby, wanna go watch The Craft?"

Sure, we've seen it about twenty times by now, but it's one of our favorites. It is our youthful right to watch, read, listen, and eat all of our favorite things until we are satisfactorily sick of them.

"Ooo, yeah!" Libby nods giddily and excuses herself politely from her conversation with my mom.

Before Libby and I can walk out of the kitchen my mom grabs my arm and I turn to look at her. She cups my face in her hands and says, "Eleanor," which tells me she has her serious hat on, "I am so proud of you."

I roll my eyes. "Thanks, mom."

"Eleanor, I'm serious. I know your junior year was hard on you, it wasn't exactly peachy, but this upcoming year will be different. I can just feel it. Okay? Enjoy your summer, sweetie. This is your last summer as a high school student. Have fun," she then moves her hands down to mine and holds them tight. "Don't you ever forget how truly wonderful you are."

Thanks, Mom. This is just what I need.

I fight the urge to cry, but the tears win. Like they win every single time.

"Awwww!" Libby bursts into tears, too, and the three of us combine to form the Lightly Sobbing Trio.

I peek over at my dad, through tears wobbling just over the rims of my lower lids, and I see him take a sip of his coffee, look up at us for only a moment, noticing our sob party in the kitchen, and then he quickly reverts his eyes back to his pages of Intensity.

☮💜☮

A/N:

If you love pizza half as much as I do, please lemme know your favorite toppings! Or, if there is something you love more than pizza (OMG) please lemme know, too!

What was the best summer you ever had?

Elle's going to have a pretty eventful one.
;)

Song: "Are You Gonna Go My Way" by Lenny Kravitz

<3
Leanne

P.S. Happy Birthday to Daniel Johns! He is 39 years old today! (April 22, 2018)